What I Did On My Holiday, as Told By Me, Severus Snape
by EcoWarriorX
Summary: Short, look-back-in-time version of Holidays. Slytherin and Gryffindor students have been seen actually talking and actually holding hands! The school is in uproar and the mystery needs solved. What happened last summer? And why, oh why, is Severus in the thick of it again? Professor McGonagall investigates, and makes him write it all down in his own incomparable style...


So my story 'Relaxing Holidays' has got a bit out of hand, I think. Six chapters, and only saying what the first few paragraphs of this one do.

But I still can't get that thought out of my head: What would happen if opposite sides of magical society were to meet during the holidays, whilst they're relaxed and happy? What if they were in a totally strange situation and had to rely on each other? And what would happen to Hogwarts and the magical world after the 'Dark' and 'Good' sides' kids end up friends?

So here's the story in short, told by our very own Severus Snape, a smug, self-righteous, rather pompous Slytherin student who didn't used to be so pleased with himself, but jolly well is now…

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**What I did on my holiday**

Student: Severus Snape

Year: seven

House: Slytherin

In detention for: Causing Unspecified Mischief in School

Punishment: detailed written essay on holiday behavior to explain said mischief

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Professor, I wish to emphasize again that none of it was my fault. I carry no blame and therefore assume no responsibility for anything that may or may not have happened during the course of the summer.

Also, I would like to mention, again, that what happened this morning was, again, not my fault. That was Siri-, I mean Black, and Jame- Potter.

Returning to my original purpose. 'What I did on my holiday'-

-was absolutely ridiculous, but I have to reiterate, as I told you this morning, that I now, in hindsight, regret absolutely none of it. Well, not much of it. At least, not all of it.

The camping trip was Rosier's idea. I believe he'd been to a Quidditch match and got a little over exited about tents. Regulus is to blame for the whole Muggle thing. _I_ certainly am not responsible for that part of it.

But I digress. Whoever was to blame, the result was nineteen of us- we decided against the inclusion of Bellatrix, and told no one else- driving through Britain in two cars. Muggle cars. Packed with Muggle camping gear. And yes, I was driving, and yes, I am licensed to do so. As is Sapphire, I must add.

We drove for far too many hours- in the interest of precision, six- including being directionally challenged a few times. Again: not my fault. Along the way I learned more Muggle rock 'n' roll lyrics than I ever cared to, and learned all the many interesting inflections of the sentence 'Are we nearly there yet?'.

When we reached the campsite, we set up camp and cooked. Well, Crabbe, the unexpected culinary genius, cooked. Then we slept.

Professor, had I known what was going to happen, I'd have turned back, I swear. Well, perhaps.

Actually, knowing me, I'd have stayed out of pure curiosity. I, Professor, am a martyr to my Slytherin inquisitiveness.

In any case, we settled in within a few days, and were I not me, I'd be inclined to say it was very nearly pleasurable. We swam, cooked, played games, painted, that sort of thing. Well, not _me_, obviously. _I_ did my homework and studied for my NEWTs.

I had only come along in view of the entire undertaking possibly being an educating experience, you understand, Professor, and to stop my unfortunate school mates from grievous harm through lack of knowledge. They couldn't so much as set a tent up without my help.

They _did_ display an interesting array of hobbies- I had not known Cecilia Turpin to be a seamstress, nor Sam Wilkes to be a car enthusiast, nor Rosier to be a fisherman and Muggle sport maniac. In fact, at least a week was spent in pure enjoyment.

Then the Gryffindors turned up. In answer to your repeated questioning this morning, _no_, I did _not_ know they were coming to the same campsite at the same time. Neither did they, or so they maintain. I would cast my suspicious eye in a more Lion-y sort of direction, were I in your position, Professor.

When Reggie discovered them, we made a pact. It was a good pact, too; carefully worded and involving mutual ignoring and leaving alone of the other party. Yes, in the end, we both broke that pact, but as you will see in just a moment, we were forced to. Don't for an instant believe that we _wanted_ anything to do with each other, but the situation had got out of control.

You see, soon after they arrived, things started disappearing. Two kinds of things: Slytherin students and Slytherin belongings. The student tended to turn up again, looking sheepish and smiling idiotically, but the belongings did not. They had been stolen, Professor, and Slytherins do not take kindly to their possessions being pilfered.

So naturally we turned our investigative eye to the obnoxious Gryffindors on the other side of the lake. Only it actually wasn't them, as they, too, had been experiencing disappearing objects and vanishing students (who had been returning with much the same sheepishly happy air as our own).

We began trying to track down the criminal, and some of our number began to suspect the woman at the gate of the campsite. She had begun behaving in a manner unlike her usual, so that even the villagers had noticed.

The stolen objects, whilst not particularly valuable, began to be more and more vital to our camping success- Crabbe's cooking pot, our car keys, people's lucky charms and favourite soft toys and the like. The absences of student grew noticeably, both in actual length and in level of sheepish happiness shown by returning pupils.

We decided to confront the Gate Lady, as Regulus insisted on calling the woman. The exasperatingly enthusiastic Gryffindors insisted on sending delegates as well. In the end, we nearly all went, leaving, of course, guards in the form of two Gryffindors and two Slytherins, who insisted on arming themselves dramatically with long pointy sticks. Unfortunately, we could not find Dolohov and had to do without him.

The Gate Lady proved easy to find and subdue, the latter consisting of throwing a few chocolate bars at her and then taking her hands whilst her attention was on them. I feel I must give credit where such is due, and mention that it was Re- Lupin who had that particular suggestion.

We escorted the Gate Lady back to our camp- the Slytherin one, being, naturally, better set up- and began the interrogation with most unsatisfactory results.

She was adamant that she had never heard of our stolen objects and certainly hadn't seen or touched them, and could she have some more of that chocolate?

Disappointed, we realized that we might have been wrong after all- until events took a sudden, unanticipated turn.

Surprisingly it was Pettigrew who first said: 'Wait… her eyes look all funny.' And indeed they did show the slight, dilated vagueness of the recently Imperiused, coupled with an irregular flushing of cheeks and strange mannerisms we had failed to pick up on before. The Gate Lady, though she knew it not, had recently been under magical mind control.

That, of course, changed everything. With the involvement of unknown wizards, the situation had suddenly risen exponentially and become potentially dangerous.

To my initial relief, Dolohov returned at that moment. I decided not to question him on his whereabouts- there were more pressing issues at hand. Someone had just discovered the Gryffindor Macdonald, bound and gagged in a Slytherin car.

It was Mulciber who reacted the most violently. After, to our astonishment, running to the unconscious girl and checking pulse and breathing, he swore to 'get back at the bastard' and 'bash his damn brains out'.

Unfortunately we were all too stressed to register the hilarity of his oratory prowess.

There was a note tucked under her necklace (which I could have sworn I saw Mulciber holding a few days ago), written with a quill on parchment, which already looked almost foreign.

It said: 'Go Away you are not Wanted Here you are not Muggles you will get into Trouble for Playing the Fools in Tents I will See To It like I Saw To This Filth.'

We set a trap that night. I will not boast of its brilliance, for it was my brainwave and I never brag. Someone- it was now clear to us- was trying to get us to leave, and this person was dangerous, possibly insane. Besides, they held the advantage of magic over us, as we in the stupidity of enthusiasm had forsworn our wands and left them at home.

A quick-witted, intelligent thinker, who shall, for the sake of modesty, go unnamed, realized that it was us enjoying ourselves in the guise of Muggles that the unknown person could not endure. So we put on a brief, exceedingly jovial instrumental concert on the beach, and took great care to show what a jolly time we were all having (Regulus had to be dissuaded from bellowing: 'Well, this is fun!' into the forest and across the lake, for that, we felt, was overkill). Then we piled up all our instruments on the beach and 'retired for the night'.

This, Professor, is where the unspecified genius really came into play: you see, we _did not retire_. Instead, we concealed ourselves masterfully in the trees around the beach, and some submerged themselves in the lake.

It took but a moment for a dark figure, dressed in billowing robes, to become suddenly visible nearby. The unknown wizard stepped up to our pile of instruments and bent over them. He or she held out a shadowy wand.

This was our signal. Regulus, Cody and Daielo, our ever-enthusiastic bowmen, fired arrows from three different directions at the outstretched hand.

One arrow pierced it, and the figure dropped its wand and screamed. It was a feminine scream and an easily recognizable one.

Now came the really droll part. We- by command of the anonymous mastermind- had attached a net to the trees above, held by two fishing enthusiasts. It fell and enveloped the person we know knew to be Bellatrix Black.

Before she knew it, the dropped wand had been confiscated, she was tied up in Cecilia Turpin's knitting and we had her surrounded and held at pointy-stick-point.

This interrogation was of more constructive help than the last. The furious witch screamed her anger at having not been invited to camp, not that she would have wanted to come anyway, it was stupid and puerile and she'd got over wanting to see the world years ago, and what were we doing anyway, shaming our families by acting like Muggles and consorting with those of impure blood, and did I, Severus Snape, accidental leader of the whole expedition, even _know_ what half my colleagues had been doing behind my back?

My incomprehension showed her I did not, and she gave a most unpleasant cackle.

'_Your_ precious Slytherins, Snape, have been running off into the bushes to meet half-bloods and Mudbloods and filth like that!'

That was news to me, but, as I looked around the circle, it became clear to me that it was not news to anyone else. In fact, more than half of them were shuffling and looking somewhat shame-faced.

I discovered, to my horror, that they had indeed been meeting each other in secret, namely to court and flirt and generally behave in ways their mothers, and indeed you yourself, Professor, would be most ashamed to hear of. I couldn't care less about the blood status of flirter and flirtee, but it's hardly very proper behavior.

That explained the prolonged absences, and Dolohov's lateness, and Mulciber's distress at Macdonald's injury. It also explained the hands being held wherever they thought I wasn't looking, knowing, I presume, that I would wish to uphold the moral integrity of the camp and give them a Look.

I decided to let it go for the moment, and come up, for now, with a suitable punishment for Bellatrix.

The winning idea, strange to say, came from Siri- Black, who suggested she be driven to that nice Muggle hospital, two hours away, for medical attention to her poor damaged hand. Mary was also not well after having been unconsciously bound and gagged and all that, and could sit next to dear Bella and keep her company in the car. Wouldn't that be _nice_, he concluded brightly, flashing a cheerful smile at an infuriated witch.

I took up the vaguely useful suggestion as a good leader should, and put Bellatrix in our car. Macdonald sat next to her, and I took the driver's seat. Mulciber wished to stay with Macdonald to keep an eye on her, so I allowed him to sit next to her.

L- Evans, the tiresome Gryffindor alpha female, insisted on accompanying us, and my acquiescence was purely rooted in necessity and had absolutely nothing to do with the particularly charming cotton dress she was wearing. Though it _was_ cut, rather fetchingly, to just above the knee.

Wandless as she was, Bellatrix was incapable of stopping her punishment from being carried out. She sat squashed between the beautiful view and a pleasant girl and scowled menacingly into the distance.

Taking pity on the poor soul, we provided her with entertainment to alleviate her impeding boredom. Li- Evans put on the car radio, which was currently playing decent Muggle rock 'n' roll, and we surprised her by knowing (nearly) all the lyrics. At the petrol station, we let her have a go at filling the car from the pump. We even let her come into the shop and showed her how to pay for the fuel. A selection of Muggle ice creams, sandwiches, Coca Cola and other fizzy monstrosities was also made and taken on the journey.

Upon arriving at the hospital, we made our way to A&E, where Lil- Evans presented our case. A cheerful young doctor gave Macdonald a few tablets and pronounced her perfectly healthy again. Bellatrix was a trickier case- our trio of archers had caused rather more damage than planned. She was taken into a quiet room, leaving us in the waiting area.

After a while, she returned, sporting a large bandage and an 'I'm A Brave Girl!' sticker. We were told she'd been given four stitches under local anesthetic.

'I'll have to see her again in a few days to see how the hand is healing.' said the doctor, winking at a blushing Bella. 'If you can't come here, I'll have to come and visit you. I'll call the campsite when I have a free time space. Good afternoon to you.'

We arrived safely back at camp to discover unexpected changes. This part wasn't my idea, Professor, I swear it. Potter and Sapphire alone are to blame for taking all the Gryffindor tents, moving them around the lake and setting them up next to ours. Our camp had suddenly swollen to twice its original size.

Actually, I recollect that it wasn't, for once, purely Potter's idea. Apparently, most of the secret couples wished to be nearer each other and petitioned, in my absence, for a communal camp. So we now had nearly forty campers instead of the original nineteen.

That night was voted a party night. Regulus, being the self-appointed party organizer, spent half an hour commanding three friends around and telling them where to place logs for seating and torches for light. We hadn't entirely forgiven Bellatrix for using an illegal curse and causing a lot of unnecessary fuss and bother, but she swore she'd apologize personally to an (uncomprehending) Gate Lady the next day, so we graciously allowed her to join in.

Over the next few days we bonded, Professor, and I have no better way of putting it than that. The girls all went off to town to buy swimsuits together and we got Crabbe a real barbeque, which he made thorough use of in his gastronomic exploits.

About three or four days later- you know how time loses significance in the holidays- we got a message from the gates, informing us of a telephone call for a Miss Bella Black from a Doctor Alexander Jones. Bellatrix insisted on taking the call herself.

I fear I must take responsibility for this one, Professor. I let her go, and when she returned I did not register her beaming expression, nor the fact that she left again straight away and took a rucksack with her. I assumed she would return within a few hours, and grew worried when she didn't.

We searched the campsite without avail. But there was a note from her in the tent she'd been sleeping in.

It said, simply: 'Gone to travel around the world with Alex. Bella.'

We haven't seen her since, Professor, and we would like to believe she's happily sunbathing in Italy or exploring African markets. She left her wand behind and Lily- _Evans!_ and I sent it to her parents.

After that, we decided to just enjoy our remaining time in camp. Crabbe surpassed himself in cooking delicious meals for forty, Rosier and McKinnon organized swimming races in the lake, Jame- Potter, Siri- Black, Sam Wilkes and Sapphire found a fairly wide, empty country road and spent hour upon hour racing the battered cars up and down. There was a beautiful landscape around to explore, and Lily and I spent the afternoons doing just that.

In place of the silver snake flag Cecilia Turpin made and hoisted a new one, sappily clichéd as these things always end up being. It was of a snake, a lion, a badger and an eagle tumbling around (on a green background, my remaining house pride hastens to add).

On one day, the Racing Car team (which had christened itself, I'd have chosen something more educated or at least funnier) gave us a racing show. We were given a flag to wave by Cecilia, and the two least battered cars, one manned by Sirius and Sam, the other by James and Sapphire. Sam won the day, possibly assisted in some small way by his co-driver Sirius. They were very pleased, and snuck off into the woods late

When the realization hit that we had only four more days of the summer holidays remaining- and may I remind you that we'd originally only planned on two weeks at the most- we had to strike camp and go pretty quickly. And there was regret, Professor, I'm not ashamed to say, as it had turned out to be rather entertaining, as summers go. Besides, we had much to do: school books to buy, exam results to read, an engagement to announce to Lily's parents.

We decided not to bother splitting up into house cars, and simply drove back up Britain, dropping people off along the way. It took nearly a day, and then I had to drive halfway back down. Very kindly, Lily insisted on accompanying me.

So here we are, back in school, Professor, and I'm in detention on suspicion of hexing James Potter into being friendly to me. Well, I didn't. Neither was it my fault that Sirius proposed to Wilkes in the Great Hall. And it certainly wasn't my fault that the answer was yes. I fail to see why you all immediately assumed I'd had a hand in it. As for Macdonald and Mulciber holding hands in the corridors, well, I tried to stop them and failed. They couldn't hear my protestations, being too busy at the time.

I realize that the very fabric of Magical society is fraying at the seams and dangerous social upheaval is close at hand, but I really can't be blamed for any of it. Honestly.

As a finishing note, a form, I suppose, of epilogue to our adventures: I received a picture postcard this morning. The picture part was of a tiny Turkish market town. The writing read:

'Dear Sev, Dear Alex and I are in a new country each week and getting married when we reach his family in India. Tell Mother and Father not to worry, I'm safe and perfectly, perfectly happy. Did you know, Sev, Muggles have invented carriages that take them into the sky- and dear Alex and I are flying away in one!

~Bella.'


End file.
